


The Bastion Who Drew Birds

by choriarty



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fairy Tale Retellings, Gen, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 07:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16739884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choriarty/pseuds/choriarty
Summary: A SST Laboratories Siege Automaton E54, or "Bastion", has a difficult time doing what it was originally programmed to do. Instead it spends its time drawing birds.A retelling on the Japanese fairy tale 'The Boy Who Drew Cats' for the Storywatch Zine.





	The Bastion Who Drew Birds

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the Storywatch Zine. I had a blast writing it, and I'm so grateful and honoured to be a part of this zine with all of the other wonderful creators. It really gave me an opportunity to discover new fairy tales and stories I would have normally never looked up. I'm very proud of my piece, and I hope you enjoy it!

“I found you!”

Bastion chirped in alarm as the door flew open and hit the wall with a BANG! In the doorway stood his creator. His skin was flushed beet red and a vein popped on his forehead. The man stormed in and snatched up the papers that Bastion had been holding. 

“What are these?” he grumbled. “Are you drawing again?”

Bastion booped sadly. 

“I didn't build you to doodle birds, I built you to--” the man stopped himself short. He sighed and rubbed his temples. With a huff he looked at the drawings in his hand once more before he let them fall to the floor. 

“I don't think you're… suited for this job,” he said as he stroked his beard. “I've looked at your CPU too many times to count and I can never find the reason why you can't do anything but scribble. Maybe you should go looking for those defective omnics in the mountains-- the ones that fancy themselves monks.”

It was as much of a dismissal as Bastion was going to get from his creator. It slowly began to gather up the papers from the floor, knowing that it was no longer welcome here. Yet as it stood in the middle of the room with its arms full of art, it realized that without explicit orders it had no idea what to do. 

Well, in a way, it did have one final command.

The Shambali monastery was visible from miles and miles away. An entire side of the mountain was sprinkled with temples of every shape and size, having been made by people long past. When it arrived at the front archway, Bastion was welcomed immediately as an old friend. 

“We are always happy when someone wishes to pay us a visit,” said a strange omnic with distracting, floating orbs. “You say you are interested in staying here?” 

Bastion chirped affirmative. 

“Wonderful!” the omnic said. “I will show you around.”

Bastion had never felt so welcome before. Every corner it turned there seemed to be a new and strange omnic, the kind it had never seen in its old home. All of them had left or been forced to leave where they grew up, just like Bastion. There were omnics that it almost tripped on and omnics that towered above and cast a shadow over it. Some had one arm like Bastion while others had up to four! 

When night came and Bastion’s systems pinged a low battery warning, it's memory banks were still swimming with new information. 

But when morning came, the promise of this new home began to wither. 

Bastion proved to have a poor grip on meditation. Sitting on the stone outside, its attention was constantly grabbed by the sounds of song coming from the trees. Soon enough it would be beeping and whistling along with their song. No matter what, the urge to put these wonderful creatures to paper and pen persisted. When Bastion ran out of parchment, it moved its art to the expansive paper walls of the temple.

After finding most of the halls covered in canaries, the shambali monk decided to have a talk with Bastion.

“From what I’ve seen of your love of drawing, I believe you would be better suited as an artist than a monk. Isolated as we are in the mountains, your talents would be wasted if you stayed here.”

Bastion knew when it was being dismissed. It whirred sadly and hung its head in shame.

“You will always be welcomed here should you ever return,” the omnic monk placed his hand comfortingly on Bastion, who beeped and was reassured.

“But heed my warning,” the monk’s voice dropped into something more serious. “As you make your way down the mountain you must remember: avoid large places; keep to the small.”

Ashamed, Bastion decided not to return to the home where its creator lived. Instead it travelled towards another temple in the hopes that it may ask for shelter. What it did not know was that all of the priests and monks had long-ago been driven out by a monster that terrorized the countryside, the giant goblin rat.

When Bastion arrived it found the temple deserted. Dejected and lonely, it was about to leave when its visual processors registered the empty walls. An entire temple worth of giant paper canvases… all waiting for Bastion to adorn with birds. 

The south wall was covered in cardinals, the west wall was sprinkled with sparrows, and the east wall was dotted with herons. As Bastion finished the last tail feather of the last hawk on the last empty surface, it was startled by the ping of its systems. Without noticing Bastion had spent the entire day drawing and now it was getting dark. Batteries sluggish and weak, it was about to enter recharge mode when it remembered:

_“Avoid large places; keep to the small.”_

So Bastion found the nearest storage cupboard and tucked itself in. It did not take long for it to fall into recharge mode. It is midnight when Bastion is awoken by its passive warning system. “Bwee?” it wondered quietly. Soon enough Bastion found what tripped its sensors. 

Outside the storage cabinet was the sound of claws on wooden floor; clicking, clicking, clicking. Something large took a deep breath and then snuffled along the ground. The sounds became closer, closer--

Right before it came to Bastion’s hiding place there erupted a great scream. A chorus of screeches and shrieks echoed off the walls of the temple’s great empty hall. Then the sound of fighting-- of biting and ripping and too many terrifying noises to count. Bastion huddled itself impossibly smaller inside the cupboard. It’s limbs were shaking with fright and quietly clinking against each other. Even after the screams and sounds of fighting ceased, it stayed in its hiding spot. 

It was only when Bastion’s chronometers said it was morning and when sunlight peeked through the cracks of the cupboard doors that it dared look outside. There, in the middle of the floor, lay the hideous corpse of the giant goblin rat. It's grotesque exterior contrasted with the peaceful temple. 

Bastion wondered what could have slain it… Nothing had seemed to have changed during the night. On the walls were the many birds of different colours and species, all in the same places as the day before. However, as Bastion looked closer, it found all of their beaks to have blood on them.

Upon returning to the monastery to tell them what happened, Bastion was hailed as a hero and given credit for defeating the beast. It lived at the monastery again for a time before setting out on its own to travel. Across the lands Bastion became a famous artist-- that only drew birds.


End file.
